He nods and places it in the “keep” stack.
“What happened with Ms. DeLange yesterday? I saw you guys leave with her.”
He sighs. “We had to go see my dad again for a supervised visit. He’s pushing hard for weekend visitation. Apparently, he’s stopped drinking and is going to family therapy.” He taps his fingers on the table. “Ms. DeLange is impressed.”
“Does that mean you’ll have to go?”
“I don’t know. We’re old enough to have some say in things, but she really wants us to make an effort.”
“How does Charlie feel about it?”
“Things were bad before but I’m not getting into so much trouble anymore. I think he’s just worried.” His nose wrinkles. “Oh, and my dad hates video games—that’s obviously an issue.”
After school, I find Jake in the hallway. “How was your exam?”
“I think I did okay. One of the essay questions was hard. I felt a little rushed.”
I nodded and squeezed his hand. “I’m sure it’s fine. You studied pretty hard and we went over the class notes.”
He gave me a tight smile. He had to pass this class to be in the running for several football scholarships. The teams are willing to overlook a lot, but not Fs.
In the parking lot we all show up like normal except Dexter; there’s a note on the Jeep windshield. Jake picks it up. Football is finally over and we’ve all been riding home together.
“It’s from Dex. He had to go to a meeting and Sierra picked him up. The key’s under the tire and he said to just drive home without him.”
“What kind of meeting?” I ask.
“Caseworker?” Charlie shrugs. “He was just talking about how he’s a month out from getting off probation. Maybe he had a meeting with Mr. Jameson that he forgot about.”
Dexter forgetting about a meeting seems unlikely, especially at this point. I had an uneasy feeling in my stomach—one that’d been there since we came home from the cabin. With exams over, the tension leaves a little. We have three days off. Tomorrow, then Thanksgiving, which Leelee had annual plans to go see her brother in Lake Tahoe, and then Friday, the tree lighting in Lee Vines. I’d been looking forward to the start of the holiday season for a while.
Leelee meets me in the office when I get out of the Jeep and the boys rush to take over the shop for the afternoon. “We’ve got a big group coming in tomorrow morning,” she tells me and Katie. “Family reunion. They come every year and celebrate Thanksgiving together and stay for the tree lighting. They’ll take the back six cabins. I need you two to make sure everything is together.”
The work keeps us busy through the afternoon and Tom brings us dinner that night. We’re all caught up on Supernatural now, so that’s no longer our biggest pastime. As Tom and my grandmother share a slice of Dexter’s pumpkin pie with fresh whipped cream and a cup of coffee, I think she’s found better things to do. The weird thing is that for once, I’ve got nothing going on. The boys haven’t come by. No word from Dexter after his meeting. Eventually I get into my pajamas and pull out one of my favorite books and read in my bedroom.
Lee Vines is a small, quiet town. After dark things slow down—barely a car passes by, but with the snow things take on an even deeper peacefulness, one that feels cozy until the shouting starts next door.
I get out of the bed and look out the window. Every light is on at Sierra’s house and the front door is wide open. Crowley’s sharp barks compete with the arguing. I can’t tell who it is but the voices are definitely male. I grab my boots and jacket and run to the door.
“Starlee?” my grandmother calls.
“I’m just running next door—be back in a second.” I’m gone before she can say anything else.
When I round the corner of the fence I don’t know what to expect, but it’s not the sheriff’s car along with Ms. DeLange.
“You can’t make us go,” George spats from the porch. “This is bullshit.”
“Calm down, son,” the sheriff says.
“George, that language isn’t helping.” Sierra appears in the doorway. She grabs onto his arm.
Charlie st
ands next to him looking lost. Movement on the roof catches my eye and I see Jake sitting above the porch. His hoodie is up but it’s clear he’s watching everything.
What the hell is going on?
That’s when I see Dexter standing by the picnic table in the front yard, hands shoved in his jacket pocket with a look of panic on his face. I run over, nearly tripping on the stupid boots.